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“It’s back again…”
The whisper caught Aziraphale’s attention, pulling his mind away from his latest report.
“...fourth time this month…”
Five low-level guards and messengers had gathered nearby, at one of the infinite identical windows lining Heaven’s halls.
“...is it the Enemy?”
“...need to report this, before they strike.”
“Strike how? It’s just sitting there.”
“Report to who? Michael said if I bother her with this again, she’ll have my wings.”
Taking his cue, Aziraphale cleared his throat. The group of angels sprang apart with strangled noises of surprise. “Anything I can help you with?” he asked.
Their faces went pale. “S–S–Supreme Archangel!”
“So they say.” Aziraphale folded his hands and smiled. “But, really, that’s hardly anything to fuss over. Now. What seems to be the trouble?”
A quick exchange of glances in varying levels of alarmed, anxious, and guilty. “It’s… really nothing to, um, concern yourself with…”
“Oh, I’ll be the judge of that.” He waved encouragingly. “Come now. I’ve already gathered that someone saw something somewhere. I just need the details. Who spotted it?”
Four angels moved as one, stepping back and away from Aziraphale. The remaining guard struggled valiantly not to faint. “S–Sir! B–been outside the South London t–transport doors for… er… seventy-five minutes? That’s—that’s the longest yet, but—well—it hasn’t done anything.” They shot a pleading look over their shoulder.
“I—I’ve seen it, too,” volunteered another guard, looking equally sick. “We reported previous appearances to—to Archangel Michael or Uriel, but—“
“But when they come to look, it’s gone,” blurted a messenger. “Every time, no trace it was ever there. We—we can’t explain it.”
Aziraphale nodded, giving his best wise, patient look, though he felt utterly bewildered. “I see. But you forgot one detail. What is outside the doors?”
They told him.
“Oh,” He rubbed his lips, then quickly folded his hands again. “Oh, I—I see. That’s—yes, that clears things up.” He met each angel’s eyes with his best smile. “I’ll take care of this personally.”
**
Aziraphale huddled in the back corner of the transporter lift, peering out at the black, hulking shape blocking the exit. He couldn’t sense any other angels nearby, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
“Crowley!” His hiss was barely audible over the engine’s rumble. “What are you doing?”
No response. Sunlight glinted off the windshield into his eyes, but Aziraphale could just make out a shadowy shape in the driver’s seat. It didn’t stir.
Glancing around nervously, Aziraphale risked waving his hand. “Crowley! Crowley, you can’t… be here! Go away!”
The engine roared louder, but still no movement.
Looked like they were really doing this.
Aziraphale closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his brow, sending out tendrils of Archangel power. It always stung, just a little, but he pushed through.
First, he checked on the Metatron. Still in private conference. Then Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon, Saraqael, and half a dozen others he kept under careful watch. All occupied.
Next he reached out into the city, deactivating every camera in the surrounding block, touching the mind of each nearby human to suggest taking a different route. Thick clouds filled the sky, cloaking it all.
By now his eyes were throbbing, but he was, for the moment, completely unobserved.
As soon as he stepped to the door, the black car retreated, giving him space.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” Aziraphale started, keeping his voice low despite the building fury. “You made your views very clear the last time we spoke, and I don’t—”
He reached the driver’s side window and froze. Crowley sat there, yes, black clothes in disarray, red hair mussed and longer than he remembered. Hunched in his seat, arms crossed, glasses in place below a furrowed brow. Staring straight ahead as the window rolled down all on its own.
Crowley wobbled, chin drooping to his chest, and snored gently.
Oh, dear.
As Aziraphale watched, the passenger side door unlocked and the air conditioning stirred through the cabin, making the plants in the back seat nod in a friendly way. The radio clicked and an older sort of rock song began to play.
I said hello, Mary Lou, goodbye heart
Sweet Mary Lou, I’m so in love with you—
“What do you think you’re doing?” Aziraphale asked, hands resting on the door.
I know, Mary Lou, we’d never part
So hello, Mary L—
“That isn’t an answer.” He grabbed the steering wheel sternly.
Another click, and a new song cut in, faster and louder.
—Dancer, Dancer
Why don’t you kick off your dancing shoes
And come ride with me?
“Oh, good Lord.” Aziraphale rubbed his eyes. “Ride where, precisely?”
The music immediately shifted again:
Dining at the Ritz, we’ll meet at nine
Precisely
I will pay the bill, you taste the wine
Driving back in style in my saloon
Will do quite nicely
Just take me back to yours that will be fine
“No, absolutely no part of this is ‘fine!’ You—” Crowley still seemed to be deeply asleep, but Aziraphale dropped his voice to a hiss anyway. “You can’t drive around all on your own. It’s—it’s outrageous! Dangerous! What if someone spotted you?”
An uncomfortable pause.
I come from London town
I’m just an ordinary guy…
“Ordinary! Don’t play innocent with me. You are nearly ninety years old. I would appreciate it if you would act your age.” The radio fell silent; even the engine’s rumble grew softer. “Are you going to behave now?”
Any way the wind blows
Doesn’t really matter to me…
“Good. And please don’t sulk, it doesn’t suit you.”
Now what? Aziraphale thought, studying Crowley’s face. He ought to wake the demon immediately. Demand he drive away and ensure it never happened again. But Crowley wouldn’t let the conversation end there. He’d have more to say, questions, accusations, everything left unresolved by their last conversation, and…
Supreme Archangel or not, Aziraphale didn’t have the strength for that.
Still. They couldn’t stay here. There was no one in Heaven he trusted to escort Crowley back, no one outside it he could contact without notice. Which left one option.
Sighing heavily, he opened the back door and shifted the plants from the rear seat to the floor. He could feel the Bentley watching him curiously as he worked.
Take a back seat, hitch-hike
And take a long ride on my motorbike
“No. Well, yes, I suppose I will go for a ride with you.” He opened the front door carefully. “But just to get you both back where you belong.”
As he lifted Crowley from his seat, the demon sighed, relaxing and shifting closer to rest his head on the angel’s shoulder. Aziraphale’s heart skipped and didn’t stop racing until he’d settled Crowley on the back bench.
Only as he shut the door did Aziraphale notice something had changed. “Didn’t you have two doors, not four?”
It takes a tough guy
To learn some new tricks
“Well. I never said you weren’t clever.” The front seat was still warm from Crowley’s body. Aziraphale sat for a moment, soaking it in, as a strange heaviness filled his heart. But he pushed it firmly away as he put the Bentley into gear and drove off.
He rode in silence, fingers tapping anxiously on the steering wheel, until the radio cautiously turned on again:
You never heard my song before
The music was too loud
But now I think you hear me well
Aziraphale pursed his lips. “I wouldn’t say I never understood before, but you’re not the only one learning new tricks. I perceive the universe differently now. And you are part of the universe.”
The Bentley considered this.
Born to be kings
We’re the princes of the Universe
“Yes, I suppose you could say that,” he chuckled. “But, please, we don’t want to wake Crowley. Why don’t you try a softer—”
My goddess hear
My darkest fear
I speak too late
The music cut him off—not loud, but abrupt and insistent. Aziraphale stopped at a red light, glancing towards the speaker. “Of course. What’s bothering you?”
The radio whirred, like a tape deck winding rapidly forward and back. Then:
There’s no living in my life anymore
“I’m… sorry, I’m not sure what you mean.”
Empty spaces
What are we living for
Abandoned places
I guess we know the score
“How dramatic.” Aziraphale ground his teeth as they accelerated again. “What nonsense has Crowley been filling your mind with? I know his routine, moaning and bellyaching, day in, day out. And whose fault is that?”
This is where we are today
People going separate ways
This is the way things are now
In disarray
“Disarray, yes, that’s certainly one word for it.” He steered sharply around the next corner. “And I’m sorry to say, but Crowley has only himself to blame. I told him—I explained very carefully—”
Love of my life, you’ve hurt me
You’ve broken my heart
And now you leave me
“I’m not the one who left! I—Well, technically, yes, I did leave, but—he was more than welcome to come, too, despite everything, I was—all he had to say—hmmmph!”
My body’s aching, can’t sleep at night
I’m too exhausted to start a fight
“I don’t want to fight either!” Aziraphale’s control was slipping. Pedestrians glanced towards the car, watching it roll past. He forced himself to take a deep breath, turning down a quiet side street. “And I won’t. It’s pointless. I’m sorry, but everything has been said, as far as I’m concerned, though I’m sure Crowley still has a thousand rants in him—“
Each morning I wake up I die a little
Can barely stand on my feet
Take a look in the mirror—
The rearview mirror wiggled, tilting down so that Aziraphale could see the back seat where the demon had curled up asleep. The plants stretched from their boxes, resting large, broad leaves over him like blankets. His brow was still furrowed, but it no longer seemed an expression of anger.
With a sharp click, the radio shifted to another song, soft and mournful.
Now I am sad, you are so far away
I sit counting the hours day by day
Come back to me…
“Oh, no. No, no, that’s not—I can’t come back.” Fear coiled in his stomach and Aziraphale’s breath grew short. “I can’t.”
How I long for your love
Come back to me
Be happy like we used to be
“No, it can’t be like it used to be, not now, not after—”
The speakers clicked so furiously he thought they might break, and the radio bellowed:
You have to face it all alone!
Aziraphale was struck by a sudden, desperate loneliness. Not just from the music, though the line felt raw and hollow. The emotion rumbled through the entire car, hummed across the metal and glass, vibrated in the seat beneath him.
He pulled over to the side of the road, setting the brake with a shaking hand. “I’m sorry, my dear,” he murmured, caressing the dashboard. “I wasn’t listening, was I?”
Oh, my love, I want you to stay
Don’t leave me now or I’ll just fade away
“You… miss me, too?”
Why should that surprise him? The Bentley was no mere extension of Crowley’s mind. After eighty years in their company, she had grown an awareness, an intelligence all her own. Eighty years of long drives, conversations, and laughter—Crowley, Aziraphale, and their car.
Until Aziraphale left, barely giving the Bentley a glance as he walked away.
“I… truly am sorry. That must have been a shock, mustn’t it? Seeing me go…”
What made you change, what did I say?
“What—No, you—you didn’t say anything.”
The engine roared with frustration, radio bursting into a frightful jumble, several songs playing all at once.
—Was it just something that I might have said—
—I’ve only got myself to blame—
—And bad mistakes
I’ve made a few—
—After all this time
The more I’m trying
The more I seem to let you down—
—But please, you must forgive me—
—Didn’t mean to make you cry—
—I guess I’m all to blame—
“No, no, oh, my dear Bentley, no.” He touched the dashboard, the leather seat, the roof over his head as soothingly as he could. “No, none of this is your fault. It’s just… oh, it just had to be this way.” But verse after verse washed over his protests.
It’s late
But it’s driving me so mad
It’s late
Yes, I know, but don’t try to tell me that it’s
Too late—
“Oh, please, won’t you listen to me?”
—Save our love, you can’t turn out the lights
So late
I’ve been wrong, but I’ll learn to be right
It’s late, it’s late, it’s late, but not too late
Aziraphale threw the door open and leapt onto the pavement. The engine revved frantically, but he didn’t walk away. Kneeling in front of the car, he placed one hand on the bumper, one on the bonnet. “My dear girl,” he said, softly and insistently. “Look at me. I swear, you have done nothing wrong. You have been the best car either of us could have asked for. So clever, so kind, so very brave. I am… so proud to have been your passenger all these years.”
The rumble of the engine by his ear softened, pitching lower, sadder. Music drifted from the open door:
You don’t know what it means to me…
“I imagine it means a lot. And I wish I’d said something long, long ago.” Aziraphale pressed his brow to the hot metal, searching for words. “I left… I had to leave. It was too big an opportunity, a chance to make things right. I tried to tell Crowley, but he—”
No. Lip trembling, Aziraphale sat back and gazed at the car, feeling her pain. Trying to be honest for her sake. “But I didn’t listen. He was so earnest, so vulnerable, and I just…” He wiped his eyes, listening to the low, comforting rumble. “I wanted him to see how important this is. But I was so wrapped in my own head… That’s why we fought. That’s always why we fight.”
Aziraphale pushed to his feet, running his fingers across the curve of the metal. “I didn’t leave because of the fight, or Crowley, or you. I left because there’s something I must do. But… my dearest girl, don’t think for a moment that I care for you any less because of it.”
When he slid back into his seat, the Bentley seemed more relaxed, more like her usual self. She waited until he composed himself and started driving again, then chose another song:
We’re right back where we started from
People going separate ways
“Yes, I’m afraid so. This is still too important, and… I can’t safely bring Crowley into my plans anymore. If that’s even what he wants.” Aziraphale looked worriedly in the mirror, but Crowley still slept like the dead. “I said some thoughtless things, and… he may never want to speak to me again.”
This time the engine made a sound almost like a snort.
My heart is always with you
No matter what you do
Sail away, sweet sister
I’ll always be in love with you
“Do you really think so?” In the reflection, he could see the lines across Crowley’s face—of grief, not anger. “I… If you must know, I feel… the same as I ever did. I expect I always will; I’m far too stuck in my ways to change how I feel about… Heaven… Earth… or Crowley.” Aziraphale sighed, driving more slowly. They were nearly there. “Perhaps, someday…”
When I was you, and you were me
And we were very young
Together took us nearly there
The rest may not be sung
So, still, the cloud, it hangs
Over us, and we’re alone
But some day, one day
We’ll come home.
“Oh, what a lovely thought. All of us, together again…” Hope filled his heart like a lead weight, heavy enough to drag him from Heaven, destroy him and all he’d worked to accomplish. Just now, he thought it might almost be worth it.
“One day… perhaps.” Aziraphale set the brake, running his fingers across the steering wheel one last time. “But for now, I must go. Listen, my girl,” he said as the radio started to whir. “Listen. I have a very important task for you. Crowley has been feeling lonely, hasn’t he? Avoiding people, sleeping all day?”
No lyrics this time, just a slow, sad piano melody, a tune Aziraphale knew. Who wants to live forever…
“Yes, I know. That’s why I brought you here.” He gestured grandly, though surely the Bentley had known all along where they were going. Where else would Aziraphale trust the most important beings in his life, except at his own shop? “Muriel will need a hand managing things here. And Maggie and Nina and, oh, all the shopkeepers always have odd jobs they could use help with.”
The Bentley hesitated, then cautiously played:
Friends will be friends
When you’re in need of love
They give you care and attention
“Precisely! Crowley won’t see it that way, of course, so you’ll need to keep bringing him back, until he understands.” Aziraphale bit his lip, resting his brow on the steering wheel. “I’ll be… so much more at ease, knowing he’s in safe hands. Can you do that for me?”
The engine revved excitedly.
“Thank you.” Aziraphale pressed his lips to the steering wheel, and almost immediately heard a grunt behind him. Looking back over the seat, he saw Crowley stir, a smile on his narrow face. “I’ll leave it up to you, then.”
Cloaking himself in enough power to go unnoticed, Aziraphale stepped out of the Bentley and patted her roof fondly. The black metal felt warm, and not from the sun. The warmth of love and trust radiated up his arm, settling in his mind. “Take care, my girl. Until we meet again.”
As he walked away, Aziraphale felt lighter somehow. Hope still clung to his heart, but it no longer seemed so heavy, or so dangerous. Perhaps he didn’t need to push it away this time.
Though he was quite certain he’d turned the car off, Aziraphale heard familiar music follow him around the corner as he returned to Heaven.
This room is bare, this night is cold
We’re far apart, and I’m growing old
But while we live, we’ll meet again
So then, my love, we may whisper once more
It’s you I adore
Las palabras de amor
Let me hear the words of love
Despacito, mi amor
Touch me now…
Ohhhh…
Las palabras de amor
Let us share the words of love
Forevermore.